


I've just been calling him "Dog"

by Nopholom



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1289512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopholom/pseuds/Nopholom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filled Request: d'Artagnan rescues a puppy he's not allowed to keep, so he sets out to find it a home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've just been calling him "Dog"

**Author's Note:**

> A quick WARNING before you read the first paragraph involves some allusions to animal abuse and there are mentions of disposing of unwanted animals in pretty harsh (but not detailed) ways, but the rest is fluff, I didn't want to tag it with animal abuse because that's not what it is about. (Tell me if I need to throw in a higher rating or you think I should definitely add in the tags)
> 
> Request/Prompt from raouldehadleyfraser on tumblr: fluff where d'Art adopts a puppy and constance tells him no so Athos somehow has to look after it until he finds it a new home.
> 
> It's been a long ass time since I've shared anything here so I figured I'd go with something gentle, enjoy!

"Shut up you sickly little runt," a man snarled as he twisted the neck of a squirming sack, trying to maintain his footing as he slid down the river bank; the sack yipped and whined pathetically, breaking over the sound of the river, and the man shook it violently. "You're not worth the trouble, no point rearing a mutt like you," he said to the bag, readjusting his hold on it as he knotted the neck of the fabric once, "best to pretend you never existed," he sneered, beginning to swing the sack slowly. Whimpers and squeaky barks continued to emit from the sack as the man got some more momentum, intending to aim for the middle of the river, just in case the animal _did_ escape.

"I'd reconsider if I were you," a voice said, followed by the audible click of a pistol being cocked, the man shook his head a fraction and let go of the sack mid swing, letting it sail through the air and hit the water with a slap-thud,

"you're not gonna kill me over a mongrel," he laughed, ducking out of the way of the pistol, but it never fired, instead the butt of the pistol hit him square between the shoulders in his haste to escape and he collapsed into the muddy bank, staring blearily as his assailant threw his pistol down--out of his reach-- and dove into the river after the sinking sack.

d'Artagnan tried to ignore the vulgar taste of the water as it splashed into his mouth when he swam, it didn't take long to reach the frantically writhing sack, grabbing it and wading in heavy, sodden clothes back to the bank. The mud was worse to crawl in than it had been to walk in, wet and slopping beneath his forearms, he thought he would be more likely to drown in the mud, he managed to drag himself to his feet, cutting the heavy knot from the sack with his knife, fingers too slick with mud to unwind the rough fabric. Inside was the most pathetic sight he'd ever seen, staring up at him with big, terrified brown eyes was some kind of puppy, small and sodden and trembling, it's short snout was twitching madly as it whimpered, it's long curly furred ears were plastered back against its head.

"Shush shush, I'm not going to hurt you," he cooed softly, but a bitter gust of wind reminded him that he, too, was soaked to the bone, he pulled the animal from the sack and decided that skin would be better than wet fabric, tucking the frail animal into his shirt, adjusting the way the fabric sat so it would cradle the animal better. It didn't struggle much, which was a relief but also a concern as he grabbed his pistol from the mud and made his way back up the bank; he stopped to pull the man's face out of the dirt, save him suffocating, but gave him a sharp kick to the ribs before climbing over the meagre wall that divided the slippery bank from the dirt path, trying to shake the mud from his clothes as he walked to his horse.

It was a wonder the man hadn't heard him arrive, riding up to see someone acting suspicious with a sack they intended to dispose of, he hadn't known what was in the sack until he'd threatened the man. He thought it was an odd thing to be so shady about, he'd seen people kill young animals before, it happened a lot back home, his father had called it a small mercy when he'd seen a neighbour drowning cats. He shook the image from his head, his horse was snorting and kneading at the ground impatiently, waiting for him to swing back up onto it. As he settled into the saddle, he heard a small yip and pressed a comforting hand to the small dog in his shirt, hating himself for not being more careful getting onto his horse. He urged the larger animal on and tried not to let the chill get to him, he would be home soon and able to warm himself and his new companion up.

Stabling up his horse had been harder with a hand full of wet, shivering puppy, the animal had taken to crying the moment he took his hand away so he'd had to offer coin for help from a youth, something he wasn't happy about, but it saved his new friend from letting out the most heartbreaking noises. He had dried a little when he arrived at the Bonacieux house, but the mud had dried too and Constance had shouted him out of the house before he'd even crossed the threshold,

" _Constance_ ," he said, voice a whine,

"No, you're not coming in here like that, go round, I'll bring you a change and some water," she ordered, d'Artagnan ducking his head and walking round obediently, "what on _earth_ did you get yourself into this time?"

"I fancied a swim," he joked, sitting on a wooden stool to pull his boots off, one at a time and singlehanded,

"in what? a sty?" Constance asked, still giving him a suspicious look, which she was right to give him, as he was hiding something, "are you hurt?" she asked,

"Hm? No, just cold and wet," d'Artagnan responded, looking to where his hand was over his heart and the small body of the puppy, "oh..." he let out, "Well I was hoping to broach that subject once I was inside,"

"oh god... what have you got?" she asked, resignation dripping from her voice, she watched as he tucked a hand into his shirt and brought out the small brown and white bundle, handing it over to her. It was small, maybe two months old and the clear runt of the litter lest the others were tiny too, shivering and whimpering as it readjusted to the new host, "oh god... d'Artagnan..." she said, d'Artagnan had expected her to coo or fawn over the little animal as he had wanted to, but she just looked... _sad..._

"Constance?" he tested, unsure as he shed his second skin of shirt and mud and began to slowly wipe himself dry.

"Where did you find this?" she asked, holding it up to look at its face,

"A man was about to toss it into the river," d'Artagnan said slowly, he felt ill at ease with the way she was talking,

"Maybe you should have let him..." she said, and it sounded painful, like she was forcing herself to say it, he stood up then, approaching her and prying the animal from her hands, pressing it to his dry chest and cradling it,

"What is wrong with you?" he asked,

"d'Artagnan _look at it_ ," she said, gesturing to the brown and white puppy. He looked down at it, he couldn't see the issue, so Constance pulled his hands from his chest and lifted them so he was eye level with the animal. It looked normal enough, it had a shorter snout than he expected on a dog like it, it was a little skinny but it seemed healthy enough, and it was a boy, he noticed,

"oh..." he let out, he'd seen the problem, it had a short stub where one of its forelegs should have been, a birth defect as opposed to an injury.

"It would have been a mercy," Constance said quietly, though her tone said she didn't quite believe her own words,

"No," he said abruptly, "it's fine, it's just a puppy, it can still walk, I'm sure of it," he said hurriedly, crouching and putting the animal on the ground, expression crumbling when it stumbled about before curling up, looking up at him with big sad eyes, "it's just cold, wet, and tired, I'm sure it'll be fine in the morning, we just need to--"

" _We_ can't," Constance interrupted, "my husband won't allow it," she added,

"We can't just turn him onto the streets," d'Artagnan insisted,

"Well you can't keep him here, I'm sorry," she said, though d'Artagnan could see her resolve was wavering under twin puppy looks from himself and the crippled animal he'd picked up and cuddled to his chest. "d'Artagnan, no," she huffed, trying to put her foot down on the matter, but d'Artagnan could see he'd won here, and she strode into the house hurriedly, returning with a towel for the animal, "quick get him inside before my husband comes home, and keep him quiet or I'll plead ignorance, understand?" she said pointedly, poking d'Artagnan in the chest near the animal, which licked tentatively at her finger, melting her sternness.

"Thank you _so_ much," d'Artagnan beamed, holding the puppy under an arm as he grabbed his clean things and rushed inside, Constance just grateful he'd shed most of his mud caked gear before darting to his room.

As d'Artagnan got his puppy acquainted with his bedroom, letting the animal snuggle against a pillow, Constance brought up a small bowl of water and another with something for the animal to eat, pointedly putting them on the floor in the corner, out of view of the doorway. He thanked her and continued to fuss over the puppy, which still wasn't moving too much, he carried it to the food and water and held it whilst it ate and drank, not letting it get out of arm's reach as the night went on, he even kept it close when he was getting changed, opting to wash clean using a bucket and cloth instead of trying to wrangle a bath into the situation.

He let it curl up on his stomach as he slept, though he was woken by a desperate whimpering, panicking and thinking he'd hurt the dog but it was just sat shivering on his stomach, he moved off of the bed with it and it began to squirm in his hands, so he set it down, watching as it squatted and a puddle formed on the wood floor.

"Good boy," he praised, relieved there was nothing wrong and it just wanted to go to the bathroom _not on him_ , he pet it's furry little head and smiled when its wispy little tail began to wag furiously to the one side, tongue lolled out. "You seem brighter," he said quietly, picking the wiggling animal up and heading back to the bed, freezing when it let out a loud, excited yip, "shhh," he whispered, not moving an inch. The dog made whining noises in its confusion and d'Artagnan spun around quickly and held the puppy behind his back when there was a knock at the door, "Hello?" he greeted, the door opening to reveal Constance's husband Bonacieux in his night clothes,

"What was that noise?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at d'Artagnan,

"stubbed my toe," he answered quickly, but the puppy yipped again and he felt a little sick in his dismay, he had already been warned by Constance, and Bonacieux was less accommodating than her.

"Is that... is that an _animal?_ " he asked, d'Artagnan moved it from behind him and sighed,

"Just a small one," d'Artagnan shrugged, earning a glare, which turned to shock when Bonacieux noticed the puddle by d'Artagnan's feet,

"Is that..." he trailed off, "It can't stay here," he snapped, unaffected by the crumpled look on d'Artagnan's face.

"I can't just throw it into the streets," d'Artagnan sighed, "just let me keep it here til morning, I'll find somewhere better for it I promise," he swore, Bonacieux rolled his eyes, exasperated and too tired to deal with this.

"I want it gone first thing, understand me?" he warned, "And clean that up _now_ ," d'Artagnan nodded, petting the dog apologetically as Bonacieux left and Constance gave a sad look past him.

 

He'd meant to tell the others that he wouldn't be training with them that day, but forgot when he was urged out of the house with the puppy, kicked would have been a better word for it, but he understood. He'd ended up spending the day traipsing around with his puppy, trying to find a home for the little bugger, but even fawning children couldn't convince their parents to take on the crippled dog.

He was weary and disheartened as night began to fall, his arm hurt from holding the puppy for so long, and he knew the dog couldn't come home with him, which is how he found himself walking into the barracks, finding Porthos arm wrestling some poor sod whilst Aramis threw down money on the match, Athos was nowhere to be seen.

"Well well well! Look who finally showed up!" Aramis called out, waving his hat at d'Artagnan, slowing the gesture and cocking his head to the side when he saw d'Artagnan's happily panting cargo. There was a bang of hand on wood as Porthos quickly ended their game in favour of greeting d'Artagnan,

"d'Artagnan!" he greeted with a laugh, scooping up the gambled money and dumping it into Aramis' hat, his opponent ducked out and grumbled angrily as he left, Porthos too noticed the small hound hanging over d'Artagnan's hand, "where have you been?" he asked, figuring d'Artagnan would explain the animal in due time. They rounded on him though, sitting against the bench as he approached and staring him down expectantly,

"I needed to find a home for this," he held the dog up, adjusting his grip on it and hugging it, smiling when it began wiggling and yipping and trying to lick his face,

"I'm going to assume you didn't have much luck," Aramis hazarded, shaking his head when d'Artagnan gave him a miserable look, "no, I don't have the time or room for a pet," he objected,

"I don't want you to give him a home, I need somewhere to keep him for the night, Bonacieux has forbid me letting him in the house," on that note Aramis grinned like he'd won something,

"Well I'm afraid I have a date with a beautiful woman," he said, intending to end his part in the conversation by putting his hat on and leaving, only to shirk down and yelp as coins hit his head, Porthos burst out laughing but a smack to the stomach had him helping Aramis collect his coins and put them somewhere less likely to assault him.

"Porthos?" d'Artagnan asked,

"Sorry, I've got money to swindle from redguards," he said apologetically, pouring the scooped up coins into Aramis' waiting coin purse, "You could always try Athos," Porthos suggested, smirking when Aramis started laughing,

"Try Athos for what?"

"Speak of the devil," Aramis chuckled, "Good luck," he said quieter, taking his leave. Porthos slapped d'Artagnan's shoulder reassuringly before bidding them both farewell and following Aramis out,

"Subtle..." Athos said dismissively, "now, try me for what?" he repeated, rounding on d'Artagnan and looking him over, seeing the wiggling puppy in his arms, "oh..." he let out,

"Please, I can't keep him and I need to find a home for him,"

"You'll find no home for him here," Athos said quickly, holding a hand up,

"I don't want to, I want someone to keep him for a night or two, just whilst I find someone else,"

"And if you don't find someone else?" Athos asked with a cocked eyebrow, "I assume that with him being lame, you'd be pu--" he trailed off when d'Artagnan hurriedly put a hand over the dog's ear and pressed the other to his chest,

"No," d'Artagnan said hurriedly, "I'll find someone else, I _will_ ," he insisted, and Athos sighed, holding out his hands expectantly. It took a moment but d'Artagnan soon handed over the dog,

"can he walk?" he asked, he had one hand on the dog's chest for support, the other tucked under its bum to hold it up,

"Not well..." d'Artagnan admitted, he hadn't seen the dog move much so he'd been carrying it all day, Athos seemed to be weighing the animal up, scrutinising it as it smiled stupidly at him and tried to reach out far enough to lick his face, only licking air and its own nose instead.

"Very well, but just for a few nights," he said after a long silence drew out between them, moving to hold the puppy closer to his body,

"You're not busy?" he asked, he'd expected excuses like Aramis and Porthos,

"Well... unless you call reading alone particularly busy," he said, the look on his face said there would be some _drinking_ alone too,  he wasn't sure if he should offer to keep him company or not, but he figured if Athos was at home doing this, he couldn't get into trouble, and would have invited d'Artagnan if he'd wanted the company.

"Thank you," he said after a moment, "I owe you one, truly," he added, about to turn and leave,

"d'Artagnan?" Athos called out as he began walking away, stopping him in his tracks, "Does he have a name?"

"Uh... I've just been calling him Dog," d'Artagnan shrugged, earning a withering look from Athos, who shook his head and tucked the dog under his arm before heading off to the kitchens, presumably to find some wine to wash down his reading material.

 

"You left him with _Athos_?" Constance repeated in disbelief,

"Yes, he said he was only reading anyway, and I promised I'd find a place for the dog soon or..." he trailed off then, he didn't want to put the animal down, it had done nothing wrong, and though it was weak, it had perked up a lot compared to how it had been when he'd found it.

"I'm not sure how to react to that," Constance mused, " _Athos_ looking after a sick dog?" she asked, and it was clear she wasn't really talking to d'Artagnan anymore, "well I suppose he _has_ looked after a child before, a dog should be easier,"

"You're getting me worried now," d'Artagnan chuckled,

"Are you sure he didn't take it to... you know... _help it along_?" she asked,

"He wouldn't!" d'Artagnan blanched, looking to the door,

"Of course not, I don't think he's the type actually," she mused, tapping her chin curiously, "no I don't think he would, not without expressly telling you before hand," she said, "don't worry, I'm sure your dog is fine,"

"He's not _my_ dog, though I'm starting to think he might have to be..." he sighed miserably,

"Well then you _might have to be_ moving out," Constance quipped with a smile, "because--"

"your husband won't allow it, I _know_ ," he sighed, "Maybe they can give me lodgings at the barracks,"

"Don't you need to actually get into the official training scheme for that?" she asked,

"I'm almost there," he grumbled, "not that I want to move out," he added, earning a smile and a pat on the head from the woman. He smiled back, sitting up straighter and running a hand through his hair, "I might head up," he said, passing on goodnights to Constance and Bonacieux before retiring to his room and lying down, wondering how Athos was doing with the puppy, he figured the puppy would be absolutely fine in Athos' care, after all, he spent most of his time looking after Porthos and Aramis according to him, a lame puppy would be nothing.

 

He returned in the morning, Aramis and Porthos were laughing and joking as they ate together, soon sniggering behind their hands when they saw d'Artagnan, having some kind of quiet discussion before he sat down with them.

"Morning," he greeted, helping himself to food from one of the few laid out platters on their table, "Where's Athos?"

"He's mooching around in the kitchens, he'll be back in a few minutes," Aramis smiled, giving Porthos a look before trying to stifle his laughter. d'Artagnan wasn't sure what was funny, frowning at the two of them in turn, his frown faltered when he saw Athos emerge from the doors to the kitchens with a bowl in his hands. He gave Athos a curious look as he sat down,

"Where's the dog?" he blurted, he'd meant to ask with more tact than that, but Athos didn't seem too phased, looking around quizzically before leaning back and looking towards the open door to the kitchens.

"Not sure," he said, removing a glove, "Dumas!" he called out before pressing his fingers to his lips and whistling loudly; there was a small clatter as excited barking erupted from the open door, shortly followed by the staggered loping of the small dog scurrying out on three legs. The dog looked thrilled, tongue and ears flopping about as it ran towards them, Athos turned his body slightly, giving the dog an opening to _leap_ up onto his lap. He turned towards the table properly, moving the small bowl he'd retrieved from the kitchen and setting it between the edge of the table and his own plate, the dog jumping its front paw onto the table when he told it to and beginning to scarf down the chunky scraps of cooked meat and innards.

 _"Dumas_?" d'Artagnan asked,

"Congratulations d'Artagnan," Aramis grinned, earning confused looks from all those around him, "Well, as far as I'm aware, where there's a name, there's a home," his eyes twinkled with mischief and Athos looked less than thrilled with the implication.

"I was tired of calling him _Dog_ , and I am _not_ keeping him," he said adamantly, but his hand was atop the dog's head, scratching through the fur affectionately, which was probably what fuelled his next words, "Though old Serge seems quite fond of him,"

"That's an understatement, I think the mutt got the best cuts of meat," Porthos joked, mostly because said mutt had finished his own food and was stealing from Athos' plate, not that he was stopping him.

"So... Dumas... he can walk, he can _run_ ," d'Artagnan said, sounding surprised,

"Did you ever try letting him?" Athos asked with a quirked eyebrow, "I had him on the ground for under a minute before he was tramping around my quarters looking for somewhere to relieve himself," he elaborated,

"I did... at first... he seemed so weak..." he sighed,

"He was shaky at first, but I imagine he's been through quite the trauma," he shrugged, "but dogs don't notice being crippled like we do, they just... get on with it," he said, looking impressed, "they don't dwell on cruel owners or missing limbs," he added, scratching under the dog's chin, smiling when the dog tilted its head upwards and licked at his chin happily.

The conversation dropped for a long while, though Aramis and Porthos roped d'Artagnan into a different discussion whilst Athos fussed over the crippled spaniel quietly and ate his breakfast. After a while, d'Artagnan remembered something,

"You said about Serge," he interrupted something Aramis was describing to address Athos, who nodded, "he'll take the dog?"

"I wager he'd be more keen if you _gave_ him the dog, as opposed to sold him it," Athos supplied, "but yes, he's fond of the little thing,"

"He's not the only one," Aramis teased, "and Serge lives at the barracks too, so _someone_ will get to play with his puppy whenever he wants to,"

"It was purely coincidence," Athos assured, "I went to find him food and Serge took a liking to him, I can't help that," but he was smiling to himself and the puppy, and d'Artagnan had the feeling that Serge had taken some _convincing_ , and that the pup would spend most of its time keeping Athos company.


End file.
